The Poetry Corner

Sonnet XCVIII.

By Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch)

Quel vago impallidir che 'l dolce riso. LEAVE-TAKING. That witching paleness, which with cloud of love Veil'd her sweet smile, majestically bright, So thrill'd my heart, that from the bosom's night Midway to meet it on her face it strove. Then learnt I how, 'mid realms of joy above, The blest behold the blest: in such pure light I scann'd her tender thought, to others' sight Viewless!--but my fond glances would not rove. Each angel grace, each lowly courtesy, E'er traced in dame by Love's soft power inspired, Would seem but foils to those which prompt my lay: Upon the ground was cast her gentle eye, And still methought, though silent, she inquired, "What bears my faithful friend so soon, so far away?" WRANGHAM. There was a touching paleness on her face, Which chased her smiles, but such sweet union made Of pensive majesty and heavenly grace, As if a passing cloud had veil'd her with its shade; Then knew I how the blessed ones above Gaze on each other in their perfect bliss, For never yet was look of mortal love So pure, so tender, so serene as this. The softest glance fond woman ever sent To him she loved, would cold and rayless be Compared to this, which she divinely bent Earthward, with angel sympathy, on me, That seem'd with speechless tenderness to say, "Who takes from me my faithful friend away?" E. (New Monthly Magazine.)